“Make him point out the satchel, or make him
suffer,” went on Bill Badger.

“I’ve got an idea!” cried our hero,
suddenly. “Perhaps he left the satchel
in the tree.”

“That’s so. Well, if you want to
climb up and look around, I’ll watch the pair
of ’em.”

“Don’t let them get away.”

“If they try it, they’ll go to the hospital
or the graveyard,” replied the western young
man, significantly.

“The satchel ain’t in the tree,”
growled Caven, but his tone lacked positiveness.

“I’ll soon know for certain,” said
our hero.

He climbed the tree with ease, having been used to
such doings when living with the old hermit.
As he went from branch to branch he kept his eyes
open, and presently saw a bit of leather sticking out
of a crotch. He worked his way over and soon
had the satchel in his possession.

“How are you making out?” called up Bill
Badger.

“I’ve got it!” shouted our hero,
joyfully.

“Got the papers?”

“Yes,—­everything,” said Joe,
after a hasty examination.

“Hang the luck!” muttered Gaff Caven,
much chagrined.

Our hero was soon on the ground once more. Here
he examined the contents of the satchel with care.
Everything was there, and, locking the bag, he slung
the strap over his shoulder.

“Now, what’s the next move?” queried
Bill Badger.

“We ought to have these men locked up.
How far is it to the nearest town?”

“Ten or twelve miles, I reckon. I don’t
know much about the roads.”

“Why can’t you let us go?” asked
Malone. “You’ve got what you want.”

“If I let you go you’ll be trying to make
more trouble for Mr. Vane and myself.”

“Don’t talk to them,” growled Caven.
“If you want to lock us up, do so!”

He was in an ugly humor and ready for a fight.

“We’ll march ’em along,” said
Bill Badger, and so it was agreed.

CHAPTER XXIX.

THE FATE OF TWO EVILDOERS.

“Are you going to let them arrest us?”
whispered Pat Malone, as the whole party moved through
the woods towards a wagon road which ran nearly parallel
to the railroad tracks.